Stood Up, White Roses and Fireworks
by Bellatrix's Weightless Tears
Summary: Miranda is stood up by a date, months after Paris, a certain brunette drops white roses by on the Fourth of July to give to our favorite white haired lady.


It's another Friday night, she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, applying make-up, just another deep breath, in half an hour her date will be here.

Just a friend of a friend set it up, it was only just a drink or two. Nothing more expected of it.

Miranda had phoned Tracey.

Tracey she pictured would be dropping her phone, telling her friend to believe it, she was going out on a date.

Miranda hadn't been on a date since the Clinton administration.

Tracey did not pick up her call, leaving a message.

Miranda spoke about how she didn't know what to do on a date. How she was nervous tonight. Wishing Tracey would just pick up to give some good advice.

Tracey didn't.

Putting on her lipstick, styling her white hair in the mirror as she selected what to wear, slipping on a black dress saying to herself, she can do this.

He'll tell her she's beautiful and be exactly like Stephen. She really hoped he wasn't in any way like Stephen.

She was told he was handsome and divorced. He jogged every morning at six and wanted to sail around the world.

Glibly she'll play right along and not mention she gets sea sick even on the ferry to Martha's Vineyard. They'd drink and he'd talk about himself and maybe if they liked each other enough they'd have dinner.

He was running late by thirty minutes now, glancing down at her Cartier watch yet again or maybe he was stuck in traffic.

Her phone rang as Miranda took the call quickly. "Sorry Miranda, this is Nick, I'm not going to be able to make it tonight. Something, came up. Can we try next Sunday?"

Miranda hung up silently with end call.

Patricia her sweet St. Bernard stayed in the air conditioning as Miranda went outside, she all but slumped in her black dress holding the glass of burgundy in the dark of her walled in garden, wiping at her lids.

Her phone was illuminated as she slipped off her heels, settling more into the patio chair.

Smelling a few neighbors' barbeques, all were enjoying the good weather on the holiday. Cassidy and Caroline were with Greg for the 4th of July at his parents place in Nantucket.

Miranda was invited but declined.

She and Greg's mother preferred distance between them.

Counting to herself as she stared up at the city sky. In about twenty minutes he'll call her.

Not looking forward to Stephen's phone call.

He'd wasn't going to call Miranda late again, like before at midnight drunk and upset her. Not if Tracey, could prevent it.

She had a real good reason on this humid summer night, in the form of a shy brown haired person who dropped these off, what she was holding for Miranda just took her breath away.

The sender wouldn't stay when she heard what Miranda had to say on her machine, she had a date, Tracey tried to urge her, not to go.

To just stay.

Tracey tried but couldn't persuade the rose's sender with pretty eyes to do that, and to have some wine with her. Drink a Chilean or Shiraz for liberty. Or she had cold Samuel Adams beer in her Sub Zero Wolf fridge if Andy felt keenly patriotic.

Andy simply said she had to go. Adding at the door, she hoped Miranda liked her flowers.

Tracey finally put a face to the name of Andy.

Her 4th of July wasn't going to be easy, somehow she'd have to get Miranda to shelf her pride and admit her feelings out loud.

Tracey wasn't armed with chilled _rosé_ and Gü cheesecake tonight and there listening all about how Stephen made her feel lousy being married to him and then talk about her work, how she felt she was always letting down Cassidy and Caroline and then _she'd_ be brought up.

The assistant that in Miranda's opinion hated her.

 _Andy._

 _Or An-dray-uh._ Tracey knew something was there even with the way she'd Mirandized the poor Ohioan's given name.

For months, Tracey had heard it all, Miranda meeting her in that outfit and about the time Andy went upstairs and walked in on a fight with Stephen, her habits that irritated Miranda, sneaking mouthfuls of grilled cheese in her top desk drawer from Morris Truck on her short lunch breaks. Endlessly cheerful and smiling at every barbed comment Miranda hurled.

Normal people with pride would have left, making fun of the grazing way that the models ate, it had been Andy that had coined the saying in the staff kitchen, grazing giraffes and why did Andrea not know an iron had been invented.

And that irritating photo of the cook with his arms around Andy and how for some unexplained reason Miranda saw red every time she saw it. And then there was the calling fashion _– stuff –_ that made Tracey inhale her sparkling lemongrass water over one lunch with irate Miranda.

Fashion was not _stuff_ to Miranda fashion goddess Priestly.

Then Paris happened and Andy Sachs up and left.

Miranda hadn't been the same, for months now. It wasn't the never ending divorce, no it was _her_ , Tracey figured it out instantly, Miranda hadn't just liked her as an assistant, she missed her. Really missed her.

But being Miranda didn't know how to deal with it or face it.

It seemed like more than sort of liking and missing the lanky brunette though to Tracey.

It was right in front of Miranda and even this Andy and somehow they couldn't see it.

Tracey called over to her.

"Hi Miranda, _this_ was delivered to my door. It's for you." Tracey Korczak pointed out.

"Bring whatever it is, tomorrow at brunch. Tracey, I'm not really good tonight." Miranda wasn't in the mood to talk to anybody even Tracey.

Sipping her wine sourly.

Nick in Commodities stood her up.

Nick could go hike to The Catskills or to the Pyrenees. Or go read Hemingway or stuff a sailfish. She wasn't dating again.

She was going upstairs and leaving no trace of make up on and take this dress off and instead of slipping on a silk or satin nightgown from her closet, or any of the elegant clothes she usually wore, she'd just put it on, and wear one of Greg's old t-shirts which swam on her and sit with it tucked over her knees and watch the fireworks alone with Patricia to cuddle to.

"Fine but I wish somebody sent me flowers like this." Korczak admired the one hundred long stemmed Ecuadorian white roses she held.

 _Flowers for her._ Were sent to her. By who? Miranda's arched brows drew together.

Nick was just a blind date. He wouldn't have even bothered to do something that sweet. A lump of dread filled her up, tell her _that_ new board member, Irv Ravitz's country club, golf buddy Jeremy hadn't sent them to her.

He was so arrogant.

Handing her a Q3 at one meeting this week, she'd sworn he'd been staring at her cleavage.

Assets on the page that Runway _-she_ brought in, were something to be admired, not hers though.

Maybe her Bobbsey's did this, Car and Cassi knew she loved flowers. Greg would've hinted to expect them.

"Who from?" Miranda asked blankly, still sitting in the dark.

"Somebody tall, dark and adores you." Tracey supplied.

If it was from _him_ , Stephen, she was binning them.

"Somebody who had a real good reason to send them to you." Tracey quirked a sly smile in the darkness.

Miranda slipped her heels back on. "Tracey let me get the gate for you."

Tracey stepped into the now faint lit garden, holding them out.

Tracey found it difficult to believe that she used to be eaten up with jealousy over Miranda's looks. And stylish wardrobe. Her perfect white hair.

Then she got to know her. The real Miranda.

The one that listened to vinyls and liked films that spoke to her and wasn't anything like Page Six wrote about.

The Miranda she knew well as any sister, hid a sweet softer fragile side of herself that Tracey knew was for self-preservation. People had hurt her. A lot.

At Runway she was something all right. The Icicle. Hell on Heels.

Living next door for since forever, Miranda wasn't that with her, over brunches and holidays and babysitting the twins and her own dog Custard ending up in Miranda's freshly landscaped garden constantly.

Her little dog from a shelter ruled Patricia.

Tracey was as tanned as Miranda was fair, half a foot shorter, and voluptuous. Miranda's eyes brightened on them, reaching out and stroking the delicate white blooms under her pale fingers.

They were exquisite. And for her. Confused, who would do this for her?

Tracey Korczak had been Miranda's neighbor for years, she knew how to navigate the dragon with ease. Miranda didn't scare her one bit. She was fire proof.

Miranda really deserved someone better _than him_. He never treated her right.

Stephen, like the spineless man-child coward he always was, had sent divorce papers to her best friend with an ocean between them during fashion week and now he still treated her like crap dragging out their divorce slowly.

Miranda plucked the card up. Her blue eyes flickered across the words to her.

 _Miranda, maybe we can go grab a cup of coffee and start again?_

Andy Sachs sent her roses. One hundred white roses from Ode à la Rose. At a loss to why or whatever for.

White roses were meant for new starts and beginnings and held another intimate meaning, love.

Stopping at that thought. _Love._ Andrea most assuredly didn't love her.

Tracey peered over her shoulder, trying to read it. Able to read that Andy wanted to see Miranda.

That was great. Flowers and a date. Tracey felt Miranda should accept even a water with Andy.

Andrea wanted to grab a coffee sometime, nervously tracing her necklace. _She_ wanted to start again. Just like that. Just staring at the blooms silently.

Start what? What were they exactly to each other?

Miranda was once just her horrible impossible boss and nothing more to Andrea. And Andrea was…well Andrea was more to her but not more. Not that, that made any sense.

" _Miranda."_ Tracey began slowly. "Andy dropped them off for you earlier."

Oh. Andrea came here to her neighbor's door, but not to hers, to face her. Brimming with cold anger. Of course, typical Andrea wouldn't see her. That realization hurt her.

"She came to _see you_ but heard you were going out on a date."

Wait, Andrea heard her message to Tracey.

Miranda winced, she heard her. Flushing pink, Andrea heard about her fears. Wonderful. Andrea saw her once looking so exposed with no make-up on, in that suite that night, with red eyes about her babies taking the failed marriage with Stephen and now had heard her talking about dating again and how she wasn't any good at it.

Her mouth thinned. Andrea always made herself barrel into her private moments. The fight with Stephen, in the hotel room. This conversation on her starting to date again was meant for just her friend not Andrea's big smiling ears.

"So you gonna have coffee with her sometime?" Tracey asked. "How about you see Andy this Monday."

Miranda held the card between her fingers. "No." She couldn't do that.

"Okay. A Tuesday than, Miranda go have coffee with Andy. See what _it_ is." Tracey urged her friend. Andy was lovely.

 _It._

There was no it. Miranda sniffed. "I don't know what you're talking about Tracey." Miranda was old enough to be Andy's mother.

Tracey placated gently. "You're crazy about her."

Miranda shook her white head explicitly. "I am not."

Tracey persisted with a big reasoning smile. "You are too. Miranda you like her."

Miranda's mouth thinned cruelly. "I hate her for Paris."

Tracey's warm grin, irritated her. "No you don't Miranda. Admit it, Andy is someone you think about a lot."

Miranda waspish tone was sharp. "I don't think about _her_. Not ever. She was just an assistant to me. Tracey she wasn't anything else." Miranda looked away now.

Uh huh. Tracey shook her head in exasperation over this. "So okay, you hate Andy. That's a strong response for someone you said you didn't even think of once." Tracey's snort earning a full Priestly glare.

"Good, 'cause that's what I told Andy, when she dropped off the flowers, that you don't think of her at all and you hate her."

She turned on her heel crisply heading for the shared gate, mentally plotting come on Miranda show that you have those warm fuzzy feelings that you don't want anyone to know you possess.

"You told her that I hated her? Tracey did you say _I_ _hate her_." Miranda breathed out. What had Tracey said to her?

Perfect, now Andrea thought she hated her. She did not hate Andrea, she couldn't quite name the feeling she had for her.

"Did she ask about me?" Miranda had to know this. "Is she happy at _that paper_?"

"Can't stand her, huh?" Tracey smirked winningly.

Carefully Tracey placed Andy's card down on the patio table. "If I were you Miranda. I'd go thank Andy for these and watch some fireworks together."

"Tracey I can't just go see her tonight." Miranda said this quietly.

Tracey shook her head. "Sure you can. I'll babysit Patricia with Custard for you."

* * *

Andy shook her head. Turning down Mrs. Benchimol in 8b. She didn't feel like a party or meeting her broker grandson Ira, and be set up.

Andy just wanted to be alone in her head tonight and go for a run around her block.

Miranda was out on a date. A date named Nick. Why did that irk her so much? Her out with Nick.

Who was he? Did he make 550k a year?

Of course he did. Andy scoffed.

Hearing Miranda's voice again at Tracey's, hit her in the solar plexus, talking about a date she was waiting for. Andy was crushed.

She'd tried. The roses were such a stupid idea. It was just the other day Andy saw Miranda getting out of her chauffeured car and she looked like she needed to be told something Andy had been trying to figure out for months now, how to just go up to her and just say it.

Not let what was unsaid smother her heart.

Every time she went to approach or show up at Runway or call Miranda, she just choked.

Andy knew what the something was.

She'd been avoiding it. Something Nate first pointed out to her. Andy didn't want to face.

Andy just took a while – a few months to realize it, she was romantically dyslexic.

She was completely in love with Miranda.

She was once just her demanding impossible ex-boss for god's sake it's not like Miranda was a NY Knick or something, they had nothing in common, and she lived and loved and breathed fashion.

Andy's sister would go into giggling hysterics if she got involved with Miranda.

Andy at prom, Jill's wedding, shopping for shoes. It was known in the Sachs household, Andy took after her Dad, that she hated shopping. Is there anything worse than dress shopping?

Yes. The waiting around near dressing rooms. Andy would rather have her toenails peeled off one by one with pliers than spend five minutes in a dress store.

Miranda went on dates to places like Daniel. Andy on first dates, the big spender she was. Häagen-Dazs all the way, baby.

If they were a couple and Miranda was here, not out enjoying herself with Nick or was it Nicholas or cutesy Nicky. Andy didn't like this Nick. Whatever way he was called by name.

What, would _they_ snuggle up to watch Netflix? Spoon in bed, go organic shopping together.

Get real Andy. Miranda wasn't normal.

Plus thinking of beds, how would they be together? Andy was no bottom. Sex and Miranda. Andy knew one thing real life sex is supposed to be funny, soft, clumsy, loving and passionate and hard at times and mostly quick and so much more.

Andy knew Miranda didn't even like a magazine out of line on her desk. Sheet grabbing sex was not something Miranda looked capable of enjoying herself with.

Miranda was just so high strung and not subscribed to being human or having anything in her close to tact or kindness.

Besides Miranda had Nick.

Perfect Nick.

Nick and Miranda she could see it on a wedding cake or in The NY Times wedding announcements.

Andy hit pavement under her sneakers hard at that thought.

She was going to be fine. So she sent one hundred white roses to Miranda. It meant nothing now. Just a friendly gesture. She couldn't blame drugs made her do it.

If Miranda did reply, she'd blame it on work and iced coffee cracking her out.

See, life now was about so much more than Miranda. Andy had her family, her health, her amazing writing career beginning. Her marathon she was doing for charity.

She really had no room for a woman like Miranda in her life. Nope.

Geez it was easier scheduling Arab-Israeli peace talks then making a date with Miranda! Something to look forward to _Nick._

Andy knew that well enough, managing Miranda's busy diary.

Andy passed a few girls sitting out at a patio having drinks this evening, flashing a flirty smile at them. One gave her their number. Look at her. She can bounce back. She didn't need some incredible sensual woman in her life for her to be happy.

What choice did she have but to return to her old, miserable life? Free of Miranda, she'd coped through for the last few months. Wait a minute. Andy was happy. Oh, please! She was miserable. She just didn't know how miserable she was.

Without waking up and hearing from her first thing at the crack of dawn, her voice saying her name from that infuriating white haired woman's mouth. Her woman out tonight with a guy named Nick.

Who probably pressed his Brooks Brothers boxers?

Miranda wouldn't sleep with him on the first date right? Would she? She was classy and a lady. Hoping she didn't.

Andy didn't notice fast enough as she just jogged angry and didn't swerve in time.

* * *

Miranda took a cab. She didn't have the heart to call Roy tonight, the holiday was time off he was owed. Holding a tissue from her purse as she overpaid the cab driver with the bills and turned the handle to exit. Getting out, on Broome, walking over to Andy's door, needing her glasses, squinting at Andy's name and number.

Pressing it to be buzzed in. Miranda spoke into it.

Hearing just static.

Trying it again. Andrea wasn't in. Fine. She'd just wait for her. Turning her head to see if Andrea lived near a café.

Andrea wasn't hurt enough to need the ER, wiping her face with her cotton t-shirt, which rode up, turning a corner.

Blinking at who was standing near her entrance, as she shook out her earbuds playing loud music. What was Miranda doing here?

Most of her wanted to run. Too late, turning blue eyes saw her

"Andrea."

Sending a familiar shiver tremoring through her.

Andy's shiny with sweat-clean face, making her look like the "before" photo of a model without makeup. But lack of makeup only revealed perfect skin, high cheekbones, and eyes like dark Sienna with flecks of coppery gold in them.

Miranda saw it clearly on Andy's face.

This was a mistake. Tracey was wrong. She was such a stupid old woman. Andrea looked at her like an electrocuted guppy. The look also was what on earth was she doing here.

Trying hard not to stare at Andy using a Bai bottle to cool her face, running it down her neck and to her nape.

"You-you're here. I was just out. Run jog." Andy wished Miranda didn't have this effect on her, sounded like an complete idiot.

Miranda almost smirked at Andrea stammering in shock.

I missed you every day - she almost said it to Andy. Miranda managed to say. "Hello, Andrea."

Hi." Andy greeted her, unlocking the main door, ushering Miranda inside before her.

"Thank you for the roses." Miranda said shyly to Andy's back. "There very beautiful."

"You're welcome." Andy led her upstairs up a few flights to her door.

Andy welcomed her inside her place. She had papers and books lying around for a deadline. "Sorry there's no AC. I gotta grab some peas."

Miranda looked confused. Peas?

Or a bag of frozen squash. Andy grabbed it from the freezer, holding it in her palm. "Can we do this on the roof, its cooler up there and I don't want to keep you from Nick."

Miranda blinked confused. Keep her from Nick? Nick who?

Realizing suddenly who Andy meant. Her date Nick. Why bring up Nick?

Unable to correct or call Andrea out on Nick, she followed the striding lanky figure she loved upstairs.

* * *

Andy led her up onto the rooftop, it was much cooler up here as Andy settled in on a lawn chair across from her. Flinching she really needed to ice this. Soon. Wincing in pain.

Miranda sat primly down on a sofa on a roof overlooking the city skyline.

"I swear it's clean Miranda." Andy pointed to the couch.

Noticing the wince on Andy's face. Was she so horrible like in the car in Paris to be around for Andrea?

Andrea _had_ sent her flowers. Taking a leap and she had begun this.

Miranda smoothed her dress. "Andrea, with the flowers you gave me, I need to know how you feel."

Andy distractedly almost groaned out in pain as she felt it through her t-shirt, hissing at the contact her palm made. She now had something new and blue. Almost lifting it, thinking better of stripping right in front of Miranda to her Nike sports bra.

Damn cab door, Andy grumbled lowly. "Just a sec. How do I feel? Ah…about what Miranda?"

Miranda stared at Andy who was looking pained at her.

Ever since they met, she'd only shown her bitchy prickly side to the sensitive brunette.

Miranda leaned forward and impulsively threaded her fingers through Andy's hand who froze.

Miranda was holding her hand. Stroking her knuckles. Never had Andy been so keenly aware of the ability of her palm to manufacture sweat. But she was determined to keep holding Miranda's hand for every single second she wanted to.

Softly asking her with blue eyes on Andy's, their faces close. " _About me_... How do I make you feel Andy?" Asking Andy with her eyes and a small smile to show her some forgiveness. For coffees and hurled coats at her and Paris and everything else in between them.

"I feel…Oww…" Miranda had leaned into Andy's side.

"Andrea what is it?" Concern was in her eyes for Andy.

Letting go of Miranda's hand, lifting her t-shirt up. Miranda let out a gasp at what she saw.

Andrea was hurt. "My darling what happened?" Letting that endearment just slip out of her mouth, kneeling between Andrea's shorts and bare legs to examine her.

Andy just stared wide eyed at Miranda on her knees, she never did or said anything vaguely resembling kindness to her.

Except the reference to The Mirror, that was sort of Miranda being nice.

After John told her, Andy was certain it would snow in July as Andy swallowed feeling herself flush presently, at Miranda's fingers touching and running along her abs to higher beneath her rib.

"The perils of sidewalk jogging." Andy sputtered as Miranda rested her palm on her knee, taking her hand in hers.

Not daring to look up at Andy as she spoke, with her white head bent. "Listen, Andy- I know. I was calculating and callous. And manipulative, and so mean to you and condescending and so many more things I was… Look, I know, I don't deserve it... with Nigel and everything in Paris, and with you leaving me."

Miranda lifted her hand off Andy's skin, slowly brushing her fingertips across Andy's jaw in a soft caress. "I miss you," she whispered while fireworks exploded overhead in a crescendo of sound and light.

"I'm in love with you Andy."

Andy had heard her but just stared at her for a few minutes without a word. "Aren't you going to say something back?" Miranda asked annoyed at Andy's silence.

"I thought the flowers to me, meant something." Miranda added unsure of why Andy said nothing back to her.

The white roses sure did mean something, Andy let go of her hand and got up and looked at the fireworks over them.

"Do you like fireworks Miranda?" Andy asked happily.

Miranda didn't understand, why ask her if she liked fireworks right now. She just told her she was in love with her. And all Andy could say to her, was asking with a big stupid grin on her face, if she liked fireworks.

Pew! Pew! Loud cracks reverberated in the skyline.

Not a reply of _oh I love you back_. "Yes somewhat. Andrea. I don't think this is funny." Hurt by Andy's brusqueness at what she just said to her. About to stand up and just go.

Andy muffled any more of her protest with a kiss that made Miranda breathless and rolled her onto her back, pinning her beneath her on the couch.

"How you make me feel is like this." Meeting her lips to hers, her pink lips slowly parted against hers, feeling Andy's tongue against hers. It was warm and guiding her as Miranda returned it.

Miranda many kisses she'd had experienced was either too much tongue, Stephen was a tongue- jammer or Greg's was polite and nice but mushy, this Andy's kiss was perfect.

Tracey would call it like Jell-O melting on a hot sidewalk.

Andy's warm mouth drew back from this kiss. "Miranda I asked you if you like fireworks, do you know why?"

Miranda shook her head, almost kissing Andy's jaw, stopping at Andy's intense gaze on her. "No, why?" She husked out surly at Andrea stopping this.

"The reason is, I always wanted to make love to a woman who was watching fireworks over my shoulder."

Andy peeled down one dress strap bow, kissing her ivory freckled shoulder blade, feeling her teeth graze it with a lick. Looking at Miranda and meaning this sincerely. "Who I'm crazy for, was very lonely for and who I really love back."

Blue sparkled on Andy as she reached behind herself and unzipped her dress with the fireworks illuminating her.

Pressing her lips to hers, beneath Andy. Pulling back from her mouth suddenly. "I guess that coffee will have to be at breakfast then."

"Yeah I guess it will be." Andy promised her, meeting her body to Miranda's.


End file.
